Hanged Man Follies
by wayfaringpanda
Summary: The Hanged Man really is the only place to spend time inbetween fighting thugs and dealing with apostates. Isabela picks on Hawke. Nobody comes to the rescue.


**Summary:** The Hanged Man really is the only place to spend time inbetween fighting thugs and dealing with apostates. Isabela picks on Hawke. Nobody comes to the rescue.  
><strong>Pairings<strong>: F!Hawke/Merrill  
><strong>Author's Note:<strong> This came to me randomly while I was doing my third playthrough, and having a terrible time deciding who to romance. Takes place during Act II.

**Hanged Man Follies  
><strong>by wayfaringpanda

Nine times out of ten, Hawke really enjoyed Isabela's company. She found the woman refreshing, filled with uncanny candor and outrageous lies. Like Fenris, she only wanted to be free, but unlike Fenris she had no qualms of how she got there and what - or who - she had to do to stay there. Waiting was certainly not Isabela's strong suite.

This, however, was not one of those times.

"Shut up, Isabela," she hissed, glaring at the smirking woman in front of her while darting her eyes to keep track of their companions.

She, Varric and Aveline were in the middle of a heated game of diamondback, while Fenris and Merrill sat together to the side. Surprisingly, the two elves were getting along for once. It may have had something to do with the copious amounts of alcohol they'd both imbibed, or that Merrill was innocently describing the finer points of elven anatomy to the wide-eyed former slave. If only Anders would join them, instead of hiding in his clinic, the bizarre picture would be complete.

"Why should I?" Isabela asked, winking at the scowling Hawke. "You, sweet thing, are _losing_."

"I thought this game was between you and Aveline," Hawke ground out. "I just stepped in to fill the empty spot."

Aveline didn't speak, simply taking a drink from her ale. She winced at the taste before picking up her cards again, surprisingly deft as she shuffled them in her hand.

"That's the primary purpose of this game, yes," the pirate conceded, propping her head on one hand as she grinned wickedly. "And I will continue to beat the pants off of her. Eventually. After all, a weeks reprieve from her inane pestering is worth the time." She wagged one finger at Hawke. "But _you_ are still losing, and that means I get to pick on you. Want me to stop? Win."

Hawke looked forlornly at her hand. "But you're cheating," she said plaintively. She'd had the worst possible hand the last four rounds.

"Of course she is, Hawke," Varric laughed. "This is Rivaini we're talking about. The rest of us are just smart enough to know that."

"If she didn't cheat, I'd suspect her of being possessed," Aveline added. "Of course, if she touches my cards she knows I'll break her hand."

"Which is why you haven't lost yet, big girl," Isabela said. "Can I get back to picking on Hawke now?"

"By all means," Aveline replied, expression neutral. "Sorry Hawke. You brought this on yourself."

Varric waved down the waitress, laughing.

Hawke threw her cards down on the table and sighed. "Fine. You all are traitors, and I'll remember this the next time you want me to do something."

"Back to what I was saying," Isabela said, grinning as she laid her hand on the table. "Is that Madame Lusine says you've stopped coming in so often to the Rose."

Varric sighed as he laid his cards down. "Good thing I know never to bet with you," he said as he took a drink.

"Yes, well, no need to go track someone down there lately, I suppose," Hawke mumbled irritatedly.

Aveline eyed Hawke. "I don't recall you being on a name to name basis with the mistress of the brothel, Hawke." She laid her cards down, then reached out to gather the pot.

"Balls," Isabela said good-naturedly. "This time, big girl. This time." She turned back to Hawke. "Madame Lusine said the girls are all dejected because you never… pop in, shall we say? Not anymore."

One look at Aveline's disapproving face, and Hawke groaned, putting her head down on the table with a thud. "Why are you doing this to me, pirate?"

"Well," Isabela said, unable to keep from smiling. "It's just that they all have such glowing things to say, including how absolutely _insatiable_ you are. So I have to ask."

Hawke tilted her head slightly, forehead still pressed against the wood, and shot Isabela her best murderous look.

Raising her voice to a stage whisper, Isabela practically crowed. "Is Merrill really that good?"

A look of horror crossed Hawke's face, and Varric started roaring in laughter. Even Aveline couldn't help but chuckle.

"Am I that good at what?"

Isabela started, then turned to see Merrill standing behind her, swaying slightly on her feet. Fenris was behind her, obviously having an even harder time with standing. It took only a moment before Isabela was howling, grabbing the edge of the table in an attempt to keep herself upright.

"Oh, Kitten, your timing could not have been better," Isabela finally gasped out.

"Why does Hawke look like she swallowed a gooseberry?" Merrill asked, looking at her lover in concern. "Is it something I said? Did I say something wrong? Did I say anything? I don't remember saying anything. Well, I mean, I remember saying a lot of things, but I don't remember saying anything lately. Other than to Fenris."

"Merrill," Hawke finally said, reaching over and pulling the elf onto the bench. "Shut up." She kissed Merrill fiercely, and the girl responded in kind, tuning out the dead silence and open stares that greeted them.

Only Aveline seemed unfazed, a small smile of contentedness on her face as she finished off her ale.

When the two finally came up for air, it seemed as if everyone else was given permission to breathe as well.

Isabela swallowed. "That good, eh?" she managed to get out with a half smile.

Standing up, bringing Merrill with her, Hawke simply shrugged. "Beyond anything you could possibly imagine." She bent and whispered into Merrill's ear, causing the girl to flush and nod.

"Bye," Merrill managed to say with a small wave before she was practically hauled out the door.

Varric started to chuckle, then turned to Isabela. He put out his hand expectantly. "Pay up, Rivaini."

Sighing noisily, Isabela slapped two sovereigns into the dwarf's hand. "How was I to know that Hawke would actually make off with her right in the middle of the Hanged Man?" she whined. "She's supposed to be all aflutter over Anders, isn't she? They flirt all the time. And Merrill hasn't said anything!"

Varric shrugged, then flipped one of the sovereigns to Aveline, who snatched it deftly out of the air and slid it into her purse.

Isabela's jaw dropped as she watched the interaction. "You!" she exclaimed, standing up suddenly and leaning towards Aveline. "How did you know?"

"I know Hawke," Aveline replied easily, standing up as well. "Of course, it also helps that I know her mother. Who is more than willing to talk to me when I stop by for dinner every week." She nodded to the companions, then sauntered towards the door, jangling her purse with her winnings. It was good to have the upper hand, now and then.

Isabela growled. "Damnit." She waved a hand at Varric, then sauntered over to Fenris. Grabbing the collar of his armor, she dragged him back towards her room.

"Isabela?" Fenris slurred slightly, stumbling.

"I need sex after that show," Isabela responded. "You gonna complain?"

"Nope," he replied with no hesitation.

Varric simply leaned back, left alone at the table. Oh, the story he was going to make out of this.


End file.
